sixthiterationlogs | One | Fate Emptied of Hope

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One | Fate Emptied of Hope

WHO: Alistair Theirin
WHERE: Fountain Square/Inn
WHEN: Dec 27, Evening
OPEN TO: One at the fountain (Claimed by Zev), OTA at the Inn, per usual.
WARNINGS: None - will edit if any occur.

'Cross Veil and into the valley of dreams:

"Very funny," came the voice from near the fountain. Dripping wet and cold, Alistair looked challengingly up at the sky, arms held out to either side. "But I don't know how you thought I'd fall for this! This isn't Redcliffe," he called. "And it's definitely not Denerim or Kirkwall or Wycome. It's not any of those tiny towns in Orlais. I've never seen this place before, so it's not my memory, cheater!"

Bending down, he picked up the first thing he saw - oh, a rock, that'll help - and threw it upward, not really noticing where it went. He heard it fall on the ground somewhere, but that was neither here nor there. It was proof he'd thrown it the wrong way, if anything.

"I don't trust you, Nightmare!" More agitated, he started to look for another rock. Another anything. "Or is this some Despair Demon's work? Encroaching on your territory now that you lost the Inquisitor? Well tough luck to you both - I'm not afraid anymore, and there's nothing left for me to Despair over. I might be the Maker's own idiot, but I'm not going to trust this illusion!"

Where had his sword gone. His shield, his armour. Which direction was the damned Nightmare?! He couldn't fight the damned thing if he couldn't see it, and he couldn't see it. Anywhere. Whatever Demon it was fueling this illusion, it was better than any he'd fought through yet, and he didn't want to think about what that meant.

In ignorance stumbling:

There was a good fire burning, and that was nice. Really, the place was nicer than roughly every other inn he'd ever seen, including the Hanged Man -- Well, honestly, it far surpassed the Hanged Man, the Pearl, definitely the Spoiled Princess. Places with names he couldn't remember because all he'd been concerned about was finding the bottom of his mug and then having another.

No such luck here, not that he minded. He'd had years to leave that particular vice behind, not that it had been a kind one while he'd had it. But at least now he was warm, dry, and, though confused, knew a few things for certain: There was food, there was shelter, and there was a chance - at least something of a chance - that this wasn't the Fade.

As he stood by the fire, pleasantly toasting himself, he realised he had a lot to think about. And that thought made his head hurt. Nose wrinkled, Alistair rubbed at his temples, muttering a quiet, "Ow."

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"Well," he said, "the first Demon that bespelled me sent me to a place where I was with my half-sister and she accepted me as family, welcomed me into her home, and I had two nephews. Demons like to trick you into wanting to stay somewhere so they can steal your energy, your emotions, and your life. All that so they can gain strength and power and have a better chance to cross the Veil. I'm Chantry educated and I have experience - I know what Demons do."

He glanced toward the ceiling. Take that, Nightmare.

"And so far, most of this sounds like Demons."

"Ah, well then, by all means I very much encourage you to be distrustful," Reeve said, shocked and perhaps a touch concerned. "It sounds a bit like what Sephiroth could do with his clones. Though less emotion stealing, more puppets."

If most of it sounds like demons to the man, it's definitely better to take things with a grain of salt. Unfortunately violence...

"I ask just that you bring no harm on people. I know that seems something a demon might say to better control you, but my fear would be someone hurt because of your reasonable lack of trust of the world around you."

"Problem is that whatever the Demon did, if it was a damned Demon, it also took my sword, my shield, and my armour. ...And everything else from the skin out, whatever the reasoning for that was," he muttered, but at least the green went with his hair and his eyes.

He was vain enough for that. Even if the rest of it made him look like a dumpling.

"I'd feel violated but. Demons."

"They took much of what I used to measure myself as well," Reeve said with a sigh. His eyes looked to his wrists. His bangles, both defensive and offensive, lost. His materia gone. His connection to his Caits also missiong.

"At least green goes with your eyes," Reeve offered, amusement in his voice. "Though it's a complimentary color with the green of your hair so at the same time you should be pleased that it's a dark shade."

This place was definitely violating.

"You know, I've tried a brighter green but it mostly just made me look sallow," he observed without missing a beat, looking down at his own sleeves. "At least they didn't try to make me match. Orange all over. Yuck."

Better subject than the demons. Which... He wasn't sure. But still, it was worth the doubt.

"You'd look more charming in browns, maybe blues that lean toward gray," Reeve suggested.

See, this is a far better topic and it makes him relax a bit.

He nodded. "My usual uniform is blue and silver, though I probably shouldn't have been wearing it," he said. "They rather turned against me at the end. But that's... Well. Another world."

"Silver and blue... Yes, that would be a great pair. Especially if the silver had a more gunmetal blue cast to it."

Another world indeed. Reeve nodded briefly as he turned his board over in his lap and regarded Alistair fully.

"Turned against you? The people you served with?"

He nodded. "My Order. The Wardens. I poked my nose into too big of a secret. Uncovered a plot. They decided having me killed was better than admitting what they planned to do." Here, now, those secrets didn't matter. So many Warden secrets had been told through the last Blight and now they'd betrayed him - so what reason did he have to keep their secrets now? "They'd been hunting me for a few years."

Ah. Now that story brought a familiar ache to Reeve’s heart. Frankly had things but been a touch less chaotic after Rufus ‘died’ he knew he would have been executed. For betrayal over uncovering secrets. More than that. For realizing there was no more stemming the tide of the company’s evil.

“Had you no companions to turn to outside of the organization?”

"No. I was an exile. I had... a few friends scattered here and there. Now and then I got a letter from one, but they were mostly living their own lives. Wynne died. Shale went on to decrease the pigeon population in Tevinter. I... drank.

"A lot."

More than a lot.

"And I stuck my nose in places it didn't belong."

“Poor friends to allow such solitude,” Reeve hissed. Clearly he was not amused. But his attention to Alistair remained kind.

“I’m the end your nose was put in the right place, therefore enabling you to uncover a plot, assist others, and I do not doubt that your remaining behind to fight this demon was a noble act. One that I pray you are remembered well for in your world.”

This man is a hero and nothing would convince Reeve of anything less.

"Time will tell. I'll probably just be thought of as a royal bastard who finally got out of the way of the throne," he exhaled. "As if I ever wanted it. But that's... not the point. The point is, I'm here now, Demons or not, and I've got a lot to get used to."

Especially since, after meeting Zevran and hearing of Iron Bull here, he suspected he'd be here a while. Like... forever.

“Illegitimate son of a royal,” Reeve corrected easily. “Beyond your reasonable distrust of the things around you, I see no personality traits to lend bastard. Of course I may not be meant as a pure insult in you world. But one must take the positives with the negatives...”

Reeve considers for a moment before rising to join Alistair a touch closer to the fire.

“What I see here is a noble man willing to sacrifice himself for the common good, to do what is right no matter the darkness of his past, who crawled from a low place and by choosing to do so elevated himself to the laudable title of a hero. You remind me a bit of a friend of mine. And I will tell you what I told him. Remember the pain of the past, so that it may guide you on the path to building a better future. So not, though, let it place blinders on you so that by inaction you allow greater evil to unfold.”

Yes, a bit like Vincent Indeed. And he didn’t even know about the whole monster blood thing.

He blinked, staring a bit at being so suddenly lauded, and-- "You sound a bit like a Revered Mother. You know that, right? That's... almost a part of the Chant."

Or it sounded like it. He knew the message, but he wasn't one of the people who had memorised the whole damn Chant just to get the praise of the Mothers of the Monastery.

"What was it that one old woman kept getting wrong... Let he who brings ham to the least of the Maker's creations be breaded or something..."

“I presume you are referring to a formal religion. I can assure you I am not a member of one. I am not sure I’d be welcomed.”

Vincent And Cloud were not the only ones seeking redemption. And there was a chance his crimes were greater.

“But I like the ham line.”

"It was supposed to be 'those who bring harm'. Apparently she was very hungry while she was practicing," he said with a small smile. "The only part she got right was the part about the maleficars."

“Maleificars?” Reeve asked. He did not know, could not know that he could be opening a can of worms there. One that might make him highly defensive.

Mostly for parallels.

“What would those be?”

"Blood mages. Any mage who used the power inherent in blood to cast their spells. It let them mold and control people's minds. All sorts of horrible things," he explained. "They usually make deals with Demons to get that power without realising that it gives the demon a foothold in their soul."

Alistair shook his head. "It's pretty common in Tevinter, but I saw a lot of it in Kirkwall when I was there, too."

"An interesting dilemma," Reeve agreed. And again his mind turned to Sephiroth. Power from a demon with a foothold in his soul. In a way, the man had always been doomed. "So much troubled caused by so few."

He glanced over. "That's how it always goes, though," he said. "A huge amount of trouble is always caused by a few people. Like the Magisters from Tevinter who walked into the Fade - they caused the Blight and centuries of death. Seven people killed... generations because of their hubris. One idiot blew up an entire Chantry in Kirkwall and started a war. It just keeps going."

Oh dear. Blowing up a Church? The rest Reeve had no frame of reference to understand. But that he knew was bad. “And people who have done no wrong are forced to suffer. I know I am not without sin, but I have tried to fix those harms I have caused. It is always an uphill battle.”

He exhaled. "Which is... well, part of why I'm here, I guess. Why not fight a giant spider to the death to try to save people. Not a bad way to go out. And the Wardens started it, so a Warden needed to fix it." And so it'd been him. He figured, anyway. Why not him. At least he could do one good thing.

"And unfortunately the weight came down on your shoulders," Reeve said. Yes. he got it.

And was reminded a lot of another person who didn't deserve the fate that had come down upon them. At least Aeris had known going in, and faced it with a smile. And proceeded to save the world with her death. Twice.

"Quite a bit of strength to do such a thing, Alistair. I am sorry for your pain. Perhaps here you will find the peace you deserve."

"We'll see." He shrugged slightly. "I mean, it's already not got a war between mages and Templars, no giant spiders, no creepy Darkspawn blowing up entire conclaves that are trying to make peace... So it's already an improvement."

And after a pause, he added, "And I'm not dead. That's... That's not a bad thing."

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